


Of Gods and Kings

by LadyBorgia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, High Fantasy, Hybrid Mythology, M/M, Torture, Valkyjra, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBorgia/pseuds/LadyBorgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crows dipped low, circling the battlefield. Large black wings expanded as a bare foot touched on the dirt. The wolves backed away from the corpses, whining at their mistresses.</p><p>The Maidens had come to collect soldiers from the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She buried her sword into the soldiers chest. The blade, sharpened beside her battalion’s fires only the night before, gleamed red as she ripped it free, kicking the man back onto the trodden ground.

“Emma!”

She turned, sword swinging just in time to hit the enemy weapon. She heard his sword chip, her own groan against his weight. Glaring, she stared into the iris’ of the man. They were green, the color of a tart summer fruit. She hesitated, feeling him gain the upper hand. She stepped left, her sword twisted from underneath his in a fluid movement. The force of his weight, unexacting her move, propelled him forward. Emma turned and swung, her weapon striking his leather helmet, fracturing the skull beneath. The man’s eyes widened in shock before falling to his knees, face-first into the mud. There, she drove her sword into his spine, splintering the bone.

The sword ripped free with a wet sound.

“Thanks!” she grinned to her father, smiling before rushing forward to his side. 

“Your mother would prefer you to be-“

“In a dress!” she grunted, kicking an enemy soldier backwards. He was slow with large swings. Emma dropped her sword, pulling out her dagger to bury it into his throat. Blood gushed from the wound as a hand lifted to grasp the neck. Emma smiled, panting as she bent over and picked up her sword. “I was never one for dresses.”

Out the corner of her eye, she saw something. Whipping her head at the movement, she saw a nearby enemy too late. Her fellow soldier, the last of the scout, had a dagger slash his throat. Damn. She rushed forward, stabbing the enemy soldier in the back. She heard him gurgle out a response before falling to the ground, dead. The handle of her weapon sticking out of him.

She pulled it free, wiping it on the leather trousers. She’d clean it properly later.

“You wore that lilac one at the ball!” he said, laughing when she shot him a death glare. He looked to the body at her feet and nodded. “The battle’s over, Emma. It’s done.”

“I know.” Emma frowned, looking around the battleground. There’d been twenty of King George’s men, only twelve of their own. Her father had wanted to lead her in a scouting operation, teach her how to lead before letting her take charge. He hadn’t expected an ambush.

“For your information,” Emma said, already beginning to rifle through the dead man’s pockets. She couldn’t crumble now. Keep talking, keep moving, don’t pause. Many of the soldier’s carried lockets, keepsakes for identification. They deserved to be returned to their families. Especially those of her kingdom. “That lilac dress was _forced_ onto me.”

“And you looked so lovely.”

She shot him another glare, frowning when she found nothing.

“His boots,” her father pointed out. 

“Oh. Right.” Tugging them off, she found a blue ribbon and a single letter. “It doesn’t seem right,” she said.

“What doesn’t?”

“Taking their lives.”

“I know. But-“

“It’s us or them. I know,” she nodded. “It’s easier in battle. You don’t think. There’s blood and dirt, but it’s happening too fast. You don’t get time to question if it’s right.”

“You enjoy it sometimes, don’t you?”

Emma hissed in a breath. Taking of her helmet, she allowed the blonde braid to slip down her neck. If she had it her way, she’d hack it off short, but Snow, her mother, wanted it long. Hair-length was proof of status. Only the poor kept theirs short, and only because they had nothing else to sell sometimes. 

The good side was that her hair was long enough to tie back, out of her eyes. It was bad enough to see through dust, sweat, blood and who knows what else, she didn’t need her hair blinding her on top of that.

However, it also gave the enemy something to grab if she wasn’t careful, the helmet for the most part, held it up.

“Come on,” David said, pulling her away from the bodies. “The Maidens will come soon.”

“I know, I know. We can come back later. But if thieves-“

“Their families will hate us anyway,” he said, tugging her away. “Best they hate us for their children dying valiantly, rather than stepping in the Maiden’s path.” 

“They realize only the valiant are chosen to ascend, right? Most of these will taken to the Lost Kingdom to wander forever.” _If they’re even true._

“People believe what they want to. Your mother believes you go out riding and braid soldiers hair, regardless of the proof showing otherwise.”

Emma sighed, her shoulders dropping. She understood. Who was she to tell them who was taken and who was left for the Others?

With a last tug, she allowed herself to be lead from the battlefield, walking beside her father. Her horse had been slain, gruesomely. Emma would mourn him with her brethren tonight, for now she walked numbly, covered in blood. 

Tears threatened to fall, the tight feeling in her chest expanding as she thought of Richard’s face. But she sniffed them back, grinding her jaw to keep her face steady.

“Your mother’s planned another ball.”

Emma groaned. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We’ll have to talk about it sooner or later. When you return home, Snow- your _mother_ ,” he corrected, “plans to discuss this issue further.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is. I don’t _want_ to marry.”

“I know. But it _is_ your duty, as our only heir. Marrying another kingdom ensures allies, trade and wealth. It’s important.” Emma’s eyes narrowed towards him, knowing he was only quoting her mother. “Don’t look at me like that. You remind me of your mother when you do that.”

“You married mum and you were just a shepherd.”

“Masquerading as a prince, now look at the mess that’s gotten us into.” He gestured around the battlefield, but Emma didn’t look. She’d seen the strewn bodies, could feel the dirt muddied with blood. She didn’t need to look again. “I know you don’t want to hear this.”

“You’re damn right.”

“But marriage isn’t about love, not for us. We marry for our kingdom, from there we bear two heirs for the throne. After that, you can do as you please.”

Emma scowled, the entire idea unpleasant. “I don’t even want to rule.”

“All the better to find someone who doesn’t want to battle. Phillip and Aurora-”

“No.”

“Eric and-“

“No.”

David laughed, clasping his daughter’s shoulder. “Alright, I’ll leave it be for now. But your mother will press the issue.”

“Can’t you talk to her?” Emma pouted, looking up at her father as though she was seven again. “Can’t you _explain_ that it’s not fair that _you_ get to marry for love, but I have to ‘align the kingdoms’.” She sulked, glaring forward at the path ahead. Camp was over two leagues away. It was going to be a long travel on foot if this was the conversation her father had to spare.

“I’ve tried-“

“Hardly.”

“Hey!” David glared, looking down at Emma pointedly. “I talked your mother into letting you train, I convinced her to let you learn about battle when you asked. I have done a lot because you asked me to, Emma.”

Sighing, she nodded. “I know. I just-“

“Don’t want to marry.”

“Not for the sake of marrying. What’s the point?”

“Our kingdom, our people, trade for our lands, peace-”

“Well maybe I’ll get lucky and die in battle.” She stopped, turning to look at a furious expression on her father’s face. “Oh come on! It was a _joke_.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

Emma prepared herself to argue back, before swallowing her words back. Nodding, she walked on. David followed after. She refused to apologise, however. She didn’t honestly want to die in battle, but marriage felt to her, like death. He had to understand that.

They walked half a mile before Emma spoke again. Her father was never angry for long, preferring to laugh than yell, but she was still cautious. “The Maidens…” Emma said.

“Yes?”

“Why are they _Maidens_ , why aren’t there…?”

“Men?”

“Yeah.”

David shrugged. “Maybe only men used to ride into battle and they dreamed of beautiful women.”

“Yeah, but-“

“I don’t know, Emma. Why don’t you talk to the priest when you return to camp, he may know answers.” David sighed, pulling his hand free of the gauntlet. She watched him run his fingers through his hair, a sign that he knew he’d been too harsh on her. “You used to dream about them, do you remember?

Emma felt the flush crawl over her skins. Looking to the road, she stared ahead at the distant tree. “That was a long time ago.”

He chuckled, catching the embarrassment. “You sound just as enamored now as you did then. I remember as a little girl you would dream of winged maidens coming to save you from a horrible life as a princess.”

“Then I got a sword.”

“Yes you did.” He smiled at her, ruffling her hair. “And look at you now. A born and bred soldier.” Emma pulled away from his hand, shoulders dropping at the impending battles ahead of them. Fighting for her self was easy, watching friends die wasn’t.

“We’ll win this war. George may have taken the Queen’s army, but we’ve fought him before.” Emma looked at her father, how did he know where her thoughts laid.

“How can you know where this will go?” 

“Because I always know when we’ll win,” David laughed. Emma, having grown up with him for twenty-two years, knew when he was hiding behind a smile. She wasn’t blind. George was picking them off in small groups, ambushing them in places he shouldn’t know about. Unless they found the source of his knowledge, they would be annihilated. “George’s army is still powerful. Years after their queen died, they fight in her name for him. It’s difficult, but we _are_ making progress.”

“You made her a martyr to them,” Emma whispered. She knew the stories. By the gods, she’d _studied_ her parents battle in detail under tutors. “It was your sword.”

“It was a mistake. We thought that freedom would have them return to Snow, but by then, Regina had poisoned them with her words, made them believe they were happier than they were. When George took over, we should have known this would happen. But we didn’t expect that he’d…” David sighed, shaking his head. “War is difficult and George has learnt from his mistakes.”

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s never fair. That’s why I brought you here, Emma. To see that this isn’t fair. You had such romantic notions of war –– don’t get me wrong, you’re smart, you know how to form battle strategies, think how the enemy does–– but it’s easy to stand behind a map and forget that real people are fighting for you.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“No, not now. But can you honestly say you understood before I brought you here?”

Emma bit back a reply, instead looking ahead. She didn’t want to talk on the matter any longer. She enjoyed sparring and when she got antsy enough, she enjoyed a good fight. But she couldn’t face another dead body. 

Emma’s eyes stung. She turned her head away from her father, blinking them back as her hands curled into fists. Dammit, she was stronger than this. Taking a breath, she let it out slowly and tried to remember why they were doing this. Why they couldn’t turn back.

“We’ll win this war,” her father spoke, attempting some comfort.

“But how many will die first?”

David sighed, looking out the corner of his eye at her. It was a fair question, she thought. How many more would she bond with over ale and fire, swap stories with and argue late into the evening, only to let their bodies be taken by the wolves the next day. “More. Many more,” her father answered.

“And what happens when you die?” she asked then. “What will I say to mum?”

“That I died valiantly?” Emma narrowed her eyes. “I know, I know. Bad joke, wrong timing. I guess I know where you got that from now.” He chuckled half-heartedly before his head dropped. “I can’t promise I won’t die. But you know just as well as I that people can die anywhere. Even those who should be safe from war and famine.”

“How is Red?” Emma asked softly. “She won’t answer my letters any more.”

“She’s isolated herself again. Granny sends us updates. I’m sorry, I thought…you were the only one she would speak to.” He smiled, looking to Emma. “After this war we’ll visit her. I’m sure she’d appreciate it, once the shock’s warn off. And the anger…”

“Does mum visit?”

“No. She tried, but eventually she gave up. She still writes but I doubt Red does little more than burn the letters.”

“Will she ever forgive her?“ Both her father and mother would tell stories of their friendship with Red. She’d been eight when it all happened.

“No. Probably not. But she doesn’t blame you.” 

Emma scratched the back of her neck, sweat trickled down from the midday sun. She tried to remember a time when her God Mother had been warm and happy. There were brief images of a laughing Red, the feeling that she’d hugged and danced with Emma often, but it was impossible to know if they were true memories or just dreams Emma held onto.

“It was too much,” David explained. “after everything else she couldn’t… If it had just been her history, or the war, or Michael, she would have been able to move on eventually, but it wasn’t.”

“He would have been fourteen now, wouldn’t he? Almost old enough to come with us.”

David nodded. “He was troublesome. If he had been anything like his mother, he would have found a way to follow.”

Emma gripped the handle of her sword, trying to remember the child’s face. Red was far easier to remember than the little boy’s. He had a loud, barking laughter. That was all she could remember. 

* * *

 The crows dipped low, circling the battlefield. Large black wings expanded as a bare foot touched on the dirt. The wolves backed away from the corpses, whining at their mistresses.

The Maidens had come to collect soldiers from the dead.

“Filthy,” a woman commented, walking amongst the dead. Her eyes turned to her sister, lifting her chin. “Don’t you agree?”

“I agree.”

“It’s a battlefield,” said the third. “A small one, but a battlefield no less. What did you expect? That they were all poisoned rather quickly into a nice death?” she snorted, looking around with livid eyes. “ _This_ is how it should be.” 

The second shrugged. She was used to both a clean, magicked death, and a more crude, physical death. The former was better for her wardrobe.

“The blonde fought well,” the first spoke again, “As did her father.”

“She is my reaping,” the second broke in territorial.

“We’re not stealing your first reap. She’s still walking on two feet, is she not?”

The second maiden huffed, eyes staring to the third maiden skeptically. She’d been known to go above her duties and take as she pleased. Sometimes she was reprimanded for her actions, but generally she was seen as a mild amusement by the other Maidens. 

A caw sung from above before the crows land on their Maiden’s respected shoulder. Even the wolves nudge closer, petting their snouts against the women’s hands like docile pups. 

The first Maiden, the leader, stood over six feet tall with brown, freckled skin and a strong jaw. She wore her hair in a long, thick braid between her dark wings. The third, who crouched before a wolf, shared a similar jaw, but with freckled, pain skin cut with scars. Her auburn hair was tied back from her eyes, before falling loose down her wings. 

The third Maiden wore her hair short, standing as the smallest of the three, but no less dangerous, she had olive skin and dark eyes. She stood beside the first Maiden, her chin tilted up as though she was as royal as her reaping. 

“It seems, you will not receive your first reaping just yet, Regina,” the third spoke, arching an eyebrow over the bloody field. “The princess has survived.”

The auburn haired looked over her wings at the two sister-Maidens. “Perhaps She was wrong.”

“Morrí is never wrong,” the first said, dismissing the comment. “The girl had a near brush, she could have been taken if Regina stepped onto the battlefield, but, no matter. She’s on borrowed time.”

“She will die soon in this war,” Regina replied, looking to her crouched sister. “I will gain my place among you.”

“Reza is teasing, sister,” the leader spoke. “Your time will come.”

“Reza enjoys teasing,” she smirked to the Maiden, watching the lips curve as the red head looked up from her wolf. “She takes of the summer-children, her army grows with each war.”

“Your name was chosen for you, sister.” Reza spoke. “Just as Amaryllis name was chosen for her. And her army is far more vast,” she stared at the Maiden, watching as dark eyes looked to her.

“Summers grow earlier, sister,” Amaryllis said, “your time will end, make no mistake.”

“My time has only begun,” Regina said, looking to the Maiden. “Women still fight.” 

“But the queens return to their kingdoms and allow their husbands to fight. Raina stole you from the battlefield because she knew this. She was afraid.”

“It was a mistake to offer her Maidenhood, the only intelligent thing she did do was bring in Regina,” Reza said. 

Regina smiled, turning her head away. “They will return to the battlefield, as they always have and I will gain my revenge.”

“Such human notions still bother you, sister?” Amaryllis voice had lowered in warning. Regina’s wings shifted uncomfortably beneath her stare.

“You remember your early days, do you not Amaryllis?” Reza asked. The wolf she petted sat obediently, watching the conversation as though he understood. “You cried for your son.”

“And because of that, I know better than most what stagnant emotions will cost you. If you can’t let go, Regina, you will lose everything.”

“I had already lost everything before I was reaped,” Regina said, looking away. How could she let on to how much anger she still felt? Even at peace with her sisters, the rage continued. It may have quelled by their comforts, but she still hungered for Snow White’s demise just as before. All she wanted was a last attack, and what better than the reaping of her daughter?

“Be careful of your emotions, Regina. They will blind you if you let them.”

“Be careful of your words. I am not your child to mould.” Amaryllis sighed, brushing a hand over the dark wing. Regina shivered at the contact, fluttering the fingers away. “I didn’t ask for your pity.”

“And you haven’t received it.”

Eager to move the topic from her, Regina looked to the dead. “How many will you take?”

“Two. One for Reza and one for myself.”

“Is that all?” There was at least thirty bodies she could see, strewn out on the dirt.

“Not all belong on the battlefield, Regina.” Amaryllis said. “Many die because of this and do not come to our home.”

Reza tilted her head, rising before her wolf. “And many die because they are unlucky. It is not our duty to choose who fights in the human world.” She grinned then, “but we do have weight in who dies in battle, is that not enough?”

“I merely spoke that we do not take those who do not belong.”

“And I _merely_ stated that such idle talk is pointless. We choose the valiant, why should it matter who the humans choose?” 

“I find this conversation dull,” Regina broke in. “Take your reapings and be gone, the both of you.”

Reza laughed, stepping closer. “Will you stay, sister, do you miss this human plane, so?”

“My feelings are of ill-consequence. I desire to stay, that should be enough to satisfy you.”

Reza smiled, her teeth glinting predatorily. “I miss the battle. I would tear a man limb from limb. But we are forbidden to fight human battles. I guess it would be like setting a dragon on a bear.” She shot a look to her sister, as if Amaryllis wrote the law forbidding the very thing she hungered for.

Regina had no doubt about Reza’s thirst. She was of muscular build and had trained as a soldier in her time, leading battalions to war on ships to the Enchanted Forest. She had slaughtered thousands and was said to have soaked the mud red. Reza told stories to those who asked, of blood and death that made Regina hungry to fight again.

Amaryllis too, hungered to fight. But unlike Reza, her story was of humbler origins. She’d been a mother, fighting to defend her land hundreds of years before Reza had been born. Often, she spoke of her misdeeds. Her passion for men, her overwhelming anger and grief. Where Reza spoke proudly, Amaryllis warned about hubris.

Amongst the Maidens, Amaryllis lead into the battlefield, but Reza lead the fallen soldiers, preparing them for the End of All Magic. Sometimes Regina watched them train, listened to the taunts Reza spoke. Young as she was amongst the Maidens, Reza allowed her to remain in her halls, teasing her when she liked, but otherwise ignoring her.

Sometimes she wondered if she was merely a replacement for Raina. 

“Falling for my charms again, are you?” Reza asked, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “I could teach you a thing or two on subtlety.” Regina snorted, to the Maiden’s amusement. Beside her, Amaryllis kneeled before a soldier with pale hair, pressing her lips to his. He gasped, alive once more as his wounds healed.

“What happened?” he asked, stunned as he looked up at Amaryllis.

“You fought valiantly against the White Kingdom and lost. You will be taken to Hall of Soldiers, dear one.” He blinked, a look of infatuation falling over his features as met Amaryllis eyes. Behind her, Reza rolled her own, shaking her head at Regina.

“Are you a Maiden?” the soldier asked. 

Amaryllis smiled, lifting him to his feet. “I am Amaryllis, I will lead you in war.” She pulled him close, her wings spanning wide. “Take care, sisters. I will see you home soon.” Regina watched then as her sister’s wing folded around them both, before disappearing with a gust of wind.

“Show off,” Reza said, looking to Regina. “That romantic crap may work for her but if I had soldiers falling in love, I’d never get anything done.”

“They do love you,” Regina pointed out.

“Sex is different. They know they have no chance with me. Those that do are idiots and do not belong in my hall.” She sighed then, a hand on her hip as she looked down at an ebony-skinned soldier from the White Kingdom. “I assume I will be expected to take my soldier too. He looks able enough so I guess all is well.”

“You’re leaving then?”

“I will,” she nodded. “You should leave soon as well. The Others are arriving.”

Regina looked to where Reza directed. Figures in dark robes appeared as if fading into existence, walking towards the fallen soldiers and ripping their souls from the bodies. Like ghosts, they slipped from the split. Regina watched as some of the soldiers arose screaming, while others looked stunned around them. A few cried, knowing they hadn’t been taken by the Maidens.

“Barbaric, isn’t it?” Reza said. “I would hate to be taken by them.”

“To wander the Lost Kingdom?”

“As they say, but who knows?” she shrugged. “It’s not within our ability to step into that realm.”

 She then moved to step before her soldier. “Wait!” Regina said. Reza paused, looking at her expectantly. “How long do I follow Emma?”

“She’s on borrowed time. It happens time to time. Some say, The Morrí misreads Her cards. Others believe Death rolls their dice against the Creator of All and loses for a time. Who knows? But borrowed time never lasts long in war. You have a few weeks, or a few minutes.” Bending at the waist, she smiled at Regina before breathing life into her soldier. When he awoke, she tilted the smile to him, watching his expression crease as memories poured into him. “You will do well in my hall.”

Before he understood, her wings had spanned wide, and she took flight with him in grip.

Regina stood alone in the empty battlefield as the Others collected their souls. The tormented hollowing irritating her nerves no less than the exasperated crying. 

Opening her wings wide, she pushed off the ground and lifted up into the skies with a gust of wind. Her crow fell away, dropping back with to the wolves as they begun to devourer the corpses. 

In the skies, Regina found herself conflicted between choices, she could follow her reaping and wait for her death, or she could return home and wait until the time came. Following Charming and the princess brat could prove of some interest. However home was her haven.

She glided over the trees, stepping onto an oak branch before the Charmings and waited.

Emma, the princess, dressed half in metal armor; a silver guard and gauntlet on her right hand that crossed over the leather and tied around her waist. A shoulder guard on the other. She wore boots with metal knee guards, and a helmet. 

Charming wore something less practical and more ostentatious, as always. Grey streaked his hair, and a few lines added around his eyes and mouth since she remembered him, but he appeared as the same man before her.

Regina desired to reach out with her bare hand and take his life, but spending an eternity with him in his world, whining about he needed to find his ‘true love’ was enough to make her teeth ache.

The princess was another story. She’d only been a baby the last time Regina saw her. Little had changed since. Tilting her head, she watched them walk in silence. A dark mood had fallen over them both. She could stay and watch the Charmings angst over their issues like the children they acted, or she could return home.

The latter was preferable but she couldn’t afford to be late in reaping the youngest Charming. She’d seen what happened to those who weren’t collected. They withered, their souls calling out for Death unheard until they eventually turned into spirits, their last desire before death overwhelming them. Most of the time, the soldiers forgotten turned violent, possessing creatures and destroying all life until their soul is called to be collected by the Others.

She’d only seen it happened once, forced to watch so she would understand her actions. 

“Why should I care what happens to forgotten souls?” she’d asked the Morrí. It wasn’t until they returned to the Hall of Soldiers, where she watched the wings ripped from her sister that Regina understood. The anguish it caused her sister to lose everything she built over the years, to be flightless and work as a servant girl until an unknown date of death, terrified Regina. The Maidens were forced to turn away from their sister, even her soldiers were taken to another hall. She became ostracized as a servant girl before years later, dying. 

Regina learnt that they could collect a reap early in battle. But they could never be late. Punishment for such was severe.

Reluctantly, she rose from the tree and took flight again, following from above lazily. She wondered then, as she watched the two idiots walk, if the Morrí had chosen specifically for the task because she had asked for Snow White’s brat, or if she was testing her. With her first reap, Regina could choose how her army would grow. It seemed obvious to choose magic, her abilities lying there, but other options laid forth. If she was clever enough, she could rise in the ranks and stand side-by-side with Reza.

* * *

 

King George stood behind the table, staring down at the strategy map. His thoughts went to his wife, thinking of the woman who’d helped shaped the battlefield with the resources and skills she’d picked up in her readings, before being interrupted by a messenger. The messenger arrived, out of breath as he stood before the table.

“Well?” he demanded. “Did it work?”

The boy nodded, grinning. “We saw them. Well, Luke did.”

“How many?”

“Three. But they all went up and left. Two disappeared and one took to the sky.”

“That’s fine. We don’t want them yet. We just needed to know if it worked.” He mulled over the information, thinking on the plan. Rumplestiltskin ensured a victory if he got what he needed. But a Maiden was no easy target. She needed to be seen to be trapped. Rumplestiltskin, at a price, only allowed one person to have the gift and as much as he would have liked it for himself, he’d given it to his son. “Did he say what the Maiden’s looked like?”

“Women,” the boy shrugged, “he said two were as tall as men, but one was quite short.”

“Did they wear armor?” The boy shrugged. Tiredly, George stared at him, “If you don’t have the information I need, then find me someone who does. Where is my son?”

“Cleaning his weapons.”

“Send him over.”

The boy nodded and left. Sitting down again, he looked to his advisor. Helena was known throughout the lands for her tactics. She’d worked with Regina in the last battle, and would have won if it wasn’t for ill luck. Others didn’t see it that way, they believed she’d lost her touch. After a time, she began to believe it too. When he’d charmed her to his side, he’d hoped to use that doubt against her.

“How long?” he asked.

Helena smiled, moving over to the map. She lifted two stone figurines. The one representing the White Kingdom scouts, was removed off the board completely, set aside with other groups that had been annihilated. The figurine representing himself was moved forward, nearby the base camp of the Kingdom Scouts. “Have your best Shadow Runner at the camp. Move your scouts from the west, to here,” she picked up another figurine, setting it close to the Shadow Runner on a picture of the southern border woods. “There’s at least twenty men in those scouts. I hope they’re good enough.”

“They won’t be able to see twenty paces in front of them.”

“No, they won’t. But that doesn’t matter. Its easy to maneuver from there.” George looked up at her skeptically, but the woman held his stare without doubt. Whatever fears had trembled her confidence before had been eradicated as her plans proved strong. Uneasily, George looked to the board again. It wouldn’t take much to tug at her fears if he needed to.

“Tell me, what do you plan to do when the scouting party decides the move is too risky and sends a Shadow Runner instead of a scouting group?”

“The Shadow would be brave. Valiant, I dare say, to risk their life for such a daunting task.”

King George smiled then, chuckling at the raised eyebrow. “I will put my trust in you, Helena. You have not failed me. Yet.”

“Of course not. I worked with Regina for three years in close quarters, very few others can claim such feat.” George raised his eyebrows then before nodding. She was right of course. “Now, your son will remain back, the same paces as before.”

“I will instruct him as so,” he agreed. “There’s little evidence to suggest the Maidens would know.”

“If he’s stupid enough to look them in the eyes, they will know. The Maidens have existed side by side with humanity since the Dawn of Magic. Who’s to say if their human-like features mean they were once human at all. After all, the fae didn’t come from humanity.”

“No, but it’s suspected that we came from de-winged fae.” He sighed. Talking of origins was a frustrating conversations with most people he’d met. Helena however, open to all opinion, was only mildly better than a priest. “No matter, you may leave, Helena. Eat, drink, read a book. Whatever it is you do when you’re not planning.”

“I do little else,” she said rather tightly, bowing shortly. “Good evening, your Grace. I will speak with on the morrow.” She lifted her emerald hood against the cool air as she left the tent, passing Luke as she did.

The prince nodded once, bowing his head before he stepped forward. “You requested my presence?” he asked, looking to his father. King George lifted his eyes from the map, to his son. The boy, only seventeen, resembled his mother more than himself. He had a long thin nose, handsome features and dark tussled hair. But even as a babe, George knew the moment he saw his eyes, that this was _his_ son. Though the blue of Luke’s iris’ had recently changed lilac. Even still, he was the son neither James nor the shepherd could be. 

Even if his eyes wandered across a particular soldier longer than was reasonable. He had the decency to resist temptation, which was enough to excuse his eyes. 

“I’ve called you here to discuss the new plan. I heard you had a success.”

“Yes,” he nodded. Stepping forward, he smiled proudly. “I saw the Maidens from the trees. They were so beautiful father. Like the tales said. One had hair like rubies! Her face bore battle scars. She looked like the people you spoke about, those who lived above our Kingdom to-be.”

George raised an eyebrow. “I see. Did they wear armor?”

“They did. It looked…different. Like metal dragon skin.”

George sighed. “Unfortunate. I had hoped to pierce a shoulder or leg with an arrow.”

“How barbaric. I didn’t think we meant to kill the Maidens. Surely they would enact vengeance on us.”

“We don’t.” George rose from his chair, stepping around the table to stand before his son. The boy frowned, worried. His weakness for the helpless was honorable to most, but at times vexing to himself. 

“These women are not good souls. They’re building an army.”

“And you want to interrogate them?”

“I have no use for a Maiden; but to win this war, to return to our home and align our people together as they should…” he trailed off, hoping that his son would believe the sincerity in his words. 

“Who are the Maidens to be given to?”

“Rumplestiltskin. He will ensure our victory.”

Luke’s lips pressed tightly, his brow kneading together as he thought it over. “Rumplestiltskin?” he echoed. “The…” Imp? Demon? No, George realized, his son was too kind for such word-choice. “The Wizard,” he said after a pause.

“That’s right, dearie.” George turned violently at the voice, facing the irritating imp. “Wizard is a new one. Haven’t heard that in a while,” he cocked his head, left and right as if tasting the word in his mouth. “Shame you were born so high up. You could have done many things if you were lower in class. Say, a shepherd.”  

George glared at the imp, watching as the grin turned from his son to face him. “Why are you-?“

“Here? You called, I came. Thought I see the boy for myself.” He turned to look back at Luke, grabbing the face with one hand to twist his features. The boy complied, confused as his face was shifted left, right, up then down. “You saw the Maidens,” Rumplestiltskin said, thick, brown nails pressing into the skin.

“I did.”

“Who was there?”

“I don’t know. I…I didn’t recognize any of them.”

“No, I suppose not. Too much to ask, but it _was_ a thought.”

“What were you expecting?” George demanded. This was his land and he was still king, he still held power here. But whatever he thought seemed irrelevant to Rumplestiltskin, who gave him nothing more than a wave of a hand. “Tell me.”

“Never you mind.” He stepped back, away from father and son, smiling. George opened his mouth, his face turning red when the imp spoke again. “I brought you a gift.” he said, holding out his hand. A cloud of purple evaporated from it, revealing a single arrow. King George was stunned, confused as to why he would need a single arrow. There was nothing special about it aside from the red feathers. But Luke stepped forward, looking at it closer.

“Is it tipped with something special?” he asked.

“Clever boy. Yes, yes yes. Will it work, won’t it? That’s the question, but I’m on good source that _that_ ,” he pointed, to the tip “is what you will need against a Maiden.”

“Iron?” Luke asked, “Silver cored?”

“No and _no_. They are neither fae, nor lycan.” He smiled, walking around the room. “A long time ago I managed to capture a Maiden’s feather wing. As you well know, Maidens collect their soldier’s bodies from all kinds of battle. Including, but not limited to: ocean depths, grande fires, great falls and of course rubble.” Luke’s brow pressed together curiously at the last one until George murmured _Fall of Miathria_.

“That was a massacre.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Unfortunately it was before my time – _yes_ there is such a thing,” he said looking to the king pointedly. 

George stared at the imp intensely, unimpressed and willing hard for him to leave. His son, however, listened enthralled. “So it has to be from something they can’t take bodies from?”

“Wrong! Maidens can take their soldiers from everything, except volcanic eruption but there’s only one battle that’s existed beneath an eruption and it’s speculated that they took their soldiers _before_ the battle.” He giggled, stepping sideways, “Moving back on topic,” He righted his clothes, as if preparing to present someone into court, “The arrow tip is irrelevant. The spell, however, is not. A paralysing spell. Nothing more, nothing less. If you hit her wing, only her wing, with this, she will be unable to fly. From there, all you need to do is treat her like a dragon.”

“ _Only_.” “A _dragon?_ ” Both Luke and George spoke at the same time.

Rumplestiltskin looked between them, amused as he bounced on his feet. “ _Yes,_ ” his voice said low and dangerous. The sound vibrated through George’s spine. “Chain her neck quickly, bind her wings, her hands, cage her and she will be unable to escape. But,” he said, as George moved to question him, “Remember, This _is_ all speculation. Trial and error and all that fun.” He turned away, making to leave the tent before he paused. Looking over his shoulder, he passed a last piece of advice, “Be careful, dearie. When I say treat her like a dragon, I mean: use the same materials as you would, to bind her.” With that, he left. Disappearing with a gust of smoke and an eerie giggle that didn’t quite leave King George’s ear.

“Well…” Luke said, puffing out his chest. “What are your plans now, father?”

“Send a message to Midas. We’re going to need some equipment.”

“They won’t deal with us, not for what you’re after.”

“They will for the deal I’m about to make them.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Emma stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. The fire in front of her crackled loudly as the men drank. One of them was singing an old song about a Maiden who lost her wings to live on the earth again. Half the words were slurred into each other making it difficult for Emma to remember the old song. 

Truth be told, there was a chance he was mixing a few songs together in his drunker stupor. 

Sitting her self down on the log, she watched as another soldier came up and hit the drunk one on the back of his head, sending him forward into the ground. The drunk tried to stand up, shouting about, “Who ever di’ tha. Ish gonna _pay_ ,” inciting a bellow of laughter from the surrounding group. 

“I’ll take him to bed,” one said. The men surrounding broke out further into laughter, taking on the euphemism. Emma watched as the man bristled, offended by the laughter as he picked up his friend and carried him away. “Night, my lady.”

“Emma,” she grunted. “Just Emma here.”

“Sure,” someone sung drunkly. “‘Just Emma’, the lady. Got a wet cunt, eh? I bet I could warm it for you.” Emma stood, turning to face him. Her shadow spilled over his face, but still he laughed. The sound irritating, loud and crude. Her hand curled into a fist, pulling back. One hit, just one- 

Someone grabbed her, the force stopped midway. “The fuck?” she said, attempting to pull out of the grip roughly to turn around.

“They’re dealing with this war, just as you are.” Matthew said, slowing pulling the hand down. “Ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” she glared, puffing out a breath before swallowing back her anger. “Fine.” She shrugged his grip away, glaring at the offending drunk. “Get him away from me or I _will_ hit him.”

“Sure. Sure. Hey, Franklin. Come on,” Matt said, walking over to him. “How about we get us some ladies, yeah?”

Emma glared after them, before sitting back down. Though there were prostitutes walking around the camp, she knew Matthew was leading his friend back to his tent to sleep off what he drank. As they left, she turned back to the fire, her anger washing away to numbness as the fire crackled. The pyres of soldiers whom taken their lives, and those that had died of injuries had been lit this afternoon after healers spoke about disease breaking out over camp. Smoke still slithered in the distance, embers falling over blackened bones. 

The other men, the ones she left behind for the Maidens, they didn’t even get a funeral pyre. No grave, no last words or blessing from the priestess. It didn’t seem right.

“How many?” one of them asked her again. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the fire to see who.

“What?”

“How many died last week in your scouting hunt.”

“Ten. I…I think.”

“And you left them for the Maidens?” She nodded. “Why didn’t you go back for their bodies?”

“What was there to go back for? Some keepsakes? Half of them wouldn’t make it home. There are thousands of people in this war,” she glared, “We can’t bring them all home.”  

Someone past her a mug of ale and she took it without a word. “How many do you think were taken?”

“I don’t know,” Emma replied. “Doesn’t matter though, does it?” Sniffing, she wiped her face on the back of her hand. “I’m tired. I’ll…try to remember for tomorrow.” Walking away, she finished the ale and dropped it on the first surface she found. 

Dammit. Breathe. She could do this, she could gain control over her freaking emotions. She’d heard about another death today. A friend this time. She hadn’t known him long, but she counted him amongst friends. She should have talked to him, though. Should have asked if he was alright. Should have asked if…

Dagger to the heart, self inflicted. He left a note too. _I’m sorry_. _Tell my parents I was taken by the Maidens_. 

She should have talked to him.

The alcohol didn’t help. It warmed her throat and made her feel something ebbing to numbness, but all she could think about was the men that had died, the ones she knew. That and the odd sensation nipping at her neck. She had the eeriest feeling all evening that someone was watching her. But whenever she looked around, she found no one. Even now she felt someone’s eyes on her, a sensation that itched the back of her neck and made a cool shiver run down her spine. She reached for her dagger, turning with it as a threat.

“You all right?”

She halted, facing Alexander with her dagger in grip. Seeing who it was, she lowered the weapon. “Sorry.”

Alexander laughed, stepping away from the sharp edge. “I understand. It’s why I asked if you were okay. Clearly…you’re not. Unless you’re always this paranoid.” Emma smiled half-heartedly. Alexander was one of the commanders from Queen Cinderella and King Fredrick’s kingdom. Even though the King and Queen were desperately fighting against a rebellion within their kingdom, they’d managed to send over the much needed help. In turn, her mother had sent over her best peacekeepers, hoping to quell the people.

She hadn’t heard any news since they marched for war.

“I’m fine. Long day,” she nodded, sheathing the weapon. “Again, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I heard about your week. It’s not easy to know you can’t stop them from dying.” 

Emma shrugged. She hardly liked most of them but there was a comradeship to war. You didn’t have to be friends. She spent half her time getting to know them anyway. Laughing, arguing, proving that she was equal, if not better than most of them in battle. 

It just so turned out she was. Breathing out, Emma reached out to steady herself against a wooden table. She gave Alexander a weak smile as his hand pressed to the shoulder not covered by a guard. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

“You don’t look fine. Have you eaten?”

She shook her head.

“Eat. You’ll need your strength.” He nodded to a tent not far away, directing her to where stew and bread was. It didn’t smell appetizing, even less so than this morning, but she allowed herself to be seated and handed a wooden bowl filled with meat and water. “Come on. Eat. It’s not much, but a warm meal does wonders to a heartache.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “I take it this isn’t the first time you’ve babysat a soldier.”

Alexander chuckled, sitting down in front of her. “Something like that. I’ve been where you are, myself actually. Would you like to hear?”

Emma shrugged, dipping her bread into the tasteless meal. “Sure, why not.” She smiled at him, watching the dimples appear in his cheek, bristled by an oncoming grey and black beard. He was smart enough, she thought. Another night she might have thought on drinking with him until they passed out. But they were at war. Others may enjoy drinking until they piss ale, but she preferred to be aware of any unexpected attacks that may happen. Especially now.

“I went out on what should have been a harmless mission,” Alexander began. “Took fifty of my men, most of whom didn’t know their sword from their shield. It was supposed to be a training exercise, but I lead them into a dragon’s nesting area by mistake. Of course, back then, dragons had been ruled extinct so it was a big surprise when…” he smiled bitterly. “Forty seven died. Of the three who survived, two had run away and abandoned their posts. As you know,” he stopped then, swallowing as he stared through the table. “Deserting is viewed as treason. The penalty of course, being death in my kingdom.”

“But you didn’t kill them. Right?” She asked. “They were just scared. I mean you can’t _win_ against a dragon.”

“I had to.”

“Bullshit.” 

Alexander shook his head, meeting Emma’s eyes. “If people start thinking they can get away with it…” He sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t seem fair, but it is.”

“They were _scared_. Hell, I’ve been scared before.”

“War is different. You can’t run in war. You have to wait for someone to call the retreat. Your father has the same laws.”

“I think I know the laws in this land better than you.”

Alexander went to argue that if she did, then she’d know the severity of the laws, but Emma didn’t back down, glaring at him with ferocious attention. Coughing nervously, he sat back in the chair. Upsetting the princess was under a list of ‘things not to do. Ever’. And in her darkened mood, Emma exploited it. 

“Look, what’s done is done. I’m sure you understand that. My point-”

“What happened next?” Emma growled. Alexander sighed.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I think it’ll tell me a lot about what type of person you are.”

Raising his eyebrows, Alexander pressed his lips together, before complying to her wishes. “I caught them traveling together. They begged for their lives. They were afraid. One of them, a boy, wasn’t even fifteen. He looked old enough to join the army and I suppose that’s why his father made him sign up in first place. The other was a mother. She was just twenty-two, her daughter, four, was at home with her husband. Apparently he’d lost his leg to a wolf, or a bear and at the time, conscription said that at least one person from each family had to join. Doesn’t matter now though, does it? Somewhere there’s a little girl without her mother, who cares if she ran or not.”

Emma looked down at her bowl, feeling less hungry now. “How did you kill them?”

“I didn’t. I handed them over to the executioner. I understood it was necessary, but think of me as you will, I didn’t believe it was right. No one did. But lines couldn’t be blurred. The King’s father understood that at the time.” 

“So you just handled them off to be beheaded by someone else?”

“Someone who wouldn’t slip,” Alexander replied. “They deserved a clean death.”

Emma pushed away from the table, glaring over her food. “Thanks for the food,” she said. “But I think I might just sleep.”

“I’m sorry if you were offended princess.” Emma growled at the titled, turning her eyes away from him. “What I was trying to say is that you’re not alone. People have different ways of dealing with grief, the best you can do is either learn from your mistakes, or understand that situation was out of your control. You really should eat.”

“I did. You can have the rest if you want.” Emma rose from the table, feeling her stomach twist uncomfortable from the story. “I’ll…see you around,” she said. 

He offered a smile that Emma grimly returned before standing up as well, taking the food she didn’t eat. Her belly was hungry, and nauseatingly full. She didn’t want any more, but she needed it.

Emma left the tent, returning to her own by her father’s. It was easier if people knew where she was and saying ‘the red one next to the King’s white one’ worked well enough. Outside, a few soldiers tried to drag her back into drinking, mourning the dead they’d say, pouring half the ale into the fire. She shrugged them off, mildly apologetic as she stalked her way towards her bed. 

When she passed her father’s tent, she paused, looking to the guards on either side. “Is he inside?”

“No, he’s with his advisor,” Lena answered. 

Emma nodded, “Thanks.” She wanted to be sure. She didn’t know what she’d say if he had been there. Ask him about their laws on deserters? She stepped the three paces across the path, to her tent. Pushing inside, she swept her eyes around the area, looking over the furs of her bedding, before looking to her chest.

And old, wooden chest, that had been her grandfather’s. Perhaps the only thing her mother gave her that wasn’t to do with being the princess she wanted her to be. Emma held her armor and weapons in there when she needed it. Books on war tactics that advisors and her father had given her, as well as parchment and ink. Somewhere, deep down in a hidden compartment, she had the family pendant kept safe.

Undoing her armour, Emma sighed in relief at the removed weight. First the shoulder and arm guard unbuckled, then the knees. She’d removed her sword earlier, leaving her dagger on her hip since she was only walking around camp. Now she removed the dagger and sheath, setting it by the bedroll she had on the floor. It was too early to sleep by any other standards, but her father had dismissed her from the war tent when she started yelling at his advisor. It’d been from there she’d been lead to drinking. 

When the last of the armour was off and set down neatly on the table, she rolled her shoulders back, feeling the day’s ache take over. Her arms stretched briefly before she dropped them by her sides. No matter what she did, she’d be sore tomorrow. One of the swings she’d made at the enemy had pulled her arm the wrong way, she could feel muscle strain from her shoulder blade, down her forearm when she stretched. It would be fine in a few days, she just had to bite through it.

Stretching it now before she sept, Emma had the familiar feeling of being watched creep over again. Listening closely, she stretched her neck. There was no movement, nothing but shadows dancing from the fire as people walked around, but the feeling didn’t go away.

“Whoever you are, come out now,” she warned. Both her sword and dagger were within reach to either hand. Looking around the small area she searched for the person. “I know you’re there, so just come out.” Shadows moved outside, enlarged by the roaring fires, but no one moved within the tent. Emma’s eyes swept over the area, looking for anyone before deciding that paranoia was taking her toll. No one could hide there. She didn’t have anything big enough to hide behind except the single chest.

Looking behind that, she found nothing. Taking a breath, she opened the lid incase a child laid inside, but still there was nothing. Only the possessions she expected, sitting on top was a few books on war tactics Mulan had given her as a coming of age present. Picking one up, she decided that if she was going to stay inside her tent and sulk, she could at least be useful. 

Still, she moved her sword closer to the furs. When she did sleep, she’d rest easier knowing she had a weapon within reach on either side. Lighting a candle, she set it down beside her and began reading. Paranoia itched at her skin, but she managed to ignore it. 

Folding her booted ankles and resting upon the furs, Emma began to form a plan.

 

* * *

 

Regina sat on the chest, her wings folded uncomfortably behind her. She stretched one wing as far as she could in the cramped space, then the other. Still, it wasn’t enough. She wanted to take flight. She could leave her post and stretch her wings for a few moments beneath the stars, but with so many people about and tents in the camp, she was afraid of losing Emma and being banished from the Hall of Heroes. Instead, she suffered sore wings and sat on the chest with one leg folded over the other, contemplating how much the blonde soldier was worth once more.

It’d been a week, too long for a person to spend watching a girl, hopeful that an assassin would creep into the encampment or a foolish drunken brawl be the end of the princess.

But no, rather, she’s spend an inhumane amount of time watching the princess being insolent. 

The Charming princess had fallen asleep, mouth agape with one arm thrown over her face. It was anything but princess-like, but so were most things surrounding Emma. From what Regina could gather, she was weak-hearted and irritatingly righteous like her parents, as well as a stubborn, self-centered, short tempered little brat who saw the world in black and white up against her morals. 

But she carried less of her mother’s feminine traits and, from what conversation Regina cared to listen to, she was more than willing to do what was necessary in a fight.

Regina thought she might be able to trade a few magic practitioners for her in Hall of Soldiers, royalty tended to be better educated overall, rather than just in battle strategy and history as many of the commanders and lieutenants were. She was worth at least eight of Reza’s men and women. 

Reza, being of mundane (non-magical) background tended to hoard magical practitioners and trade them for worthy soldiers to join her army. They were otherwise of little use to her. At most, she spent time, teaching them how to use staffs as weapons, but after that she tended to delegate them elsewhere to teach each other magic.

 There were other Maidens who had reaped magical practitioners, but she knew that Reza wouldn’t try to trick her out of a good deal. Much. 

“You look bored.” 

Regina’s head snapped up to where Reza stood, as if she’d heard her thoughts call her. Dressed in a white dress, she wore her hair red down and smiled, looking somewhere between murderess and regal. It was moments like that, Regina felt oddly sad to have been from a different time to her. She would have enjoyed going to war with Reza and crushing her in battle.

“She’s alive,” Regina said, turning to look back at Emma. 

“I can see that.”

“Well, I find this entire thing infuriating. Almost as much as the time I followed Amaryllis’ soldier for two weeks.”

Reza smirked, cocking her head to look at the princess, “Time runs differently in our world. If you’re off by even a moment, you can spend days waiting.”

“I know how time works,” Regina snapped. “I spent over two decades learning about it.”

The princess snorted in her sleep, as if disturbed by their conversation. Which Regina knew was ridiculous. Maidens stood on a separate plane of existence, paralleled with the human world. They could neither be seen nor heard by those who couldn’t cross over, and until moments before death, Emma couldn’t cross the plane of existence. 

“How much for her?”

Reza stepped over to Emma, bowing at the waist as she peered down. “Two,” she decided, her lips twisting. “Maybe three.” Standing upright again, she smiled at Regina, daring her to object.

“Two!”

“Well she doesn’t look like much,” Reza admitted. “Strong arms, right arm’s more muscular so I would say one-handed weapon. Light armour. But,” she considered, “she _is_ a princess and- ohh, I haven’t seen this book in years.” Reza picked up the book Emma held, flicking through it. “What language is this?”

“Mine.”

“No chance that I could sit in your lap and ask for a bedtime story?”

Regina snorted. “Please. _Eight_.”

“Three. _And_ you can choose one of them.” She flicked through the pages, focusing on some of the pictures and diagrams in it. 

“Why’s the book important to you?”

The Maiden’s brow furrowed before she placed the book down. “My grandfather wrote that book with his friend. Isn’t it strange how you come across things years later?”

“Centuries in your case.”

Reza smiled mischievously, moving to stand beside Regina, her wings folded. “It’s too late to come home now, Regina, my love. Tonight will be her last night on earth and she spends it reading that drawl. How irritatingly dull. No wonder you’re carting her off to the first person you see.” 

“Five practitioners.”

“You don’t even know if she can do magic.”

Regina’s mouth sneered. She didn’t care to know either. “ _That_ girl, is Snow White’s brat. I have no need for her and her insolence.”

“Ah, insolent is she? I retract my previous offer. Three and _I_ choose who to give you.”

Regina felt frustration rise up inside of her. Reza was teasing her, mostly. “Please, you enjoy breaking in new soldiers.”

“As I’m sure you will. Is it just because she’s White Snow’s-?“

“Snow White’s.”

“- Whatever. But is it because she’s her child that you are so desperate on trading her?”

Regina turned, focusing her stare on Reza’s hazel eyes. They were open wide, dangerously mixed with a smile pulling wide across her lips. “I have no need for her,” Regina replied placidly. Reza laughed at her.

“If you say so. Who am I to stand in the way of-?” 

“Who’s there?”

Reza and Regina turned to the voice. Emma sat up, dagger in grip as her eyes looked around the area. Regina blinked, looking to Reza for an explanation. The elder Maiden shrugged, intrigued but unconcerned by the princess. Regina felt the feathers on her wings fall back into place, relaxed.

“Can you hear us, dear?” Regina asked. Emma’s eyes continued to scan the tent before her arm relaxed, once again realising that no one was there.

“I believe she is magic,” Reza said. “Would you look at that. Powerful enough to sense our presence. Alright, Regina. I’ll give you five.”

“Ten.”

Reza’s head whipped around to the her sister. “Swindler,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes. “Bring her to my Hall and we’ll discuss further.” Leaning forward, she kissed Regina’s lips, pulling away before she could be slapped. “Goodnight, sister. I shall see you soon.”

Regina battered her away, smiling as the woman laughed. “Ten,” she called after her.

“We’ll see.”

Looking back to Emma, Regina watched as the princess began moving. The first thing she did was blink around her tiredly, looking confused at the book Reza had picked up. She went for the skin lying next to the chest, and took a sip of water before she moved to stand up. Regina watched as the princess undid her hair, combing her fingers through the tangles before she tied it again so loose strands didn’t fall into her eyes.

 The princess’s sudden but unknown motivation was fascinating to observe as Emma grabbed her armour, placing it on piece by piece before she reached for her weapons, buckling the leather around her waist. Regina moved around to the other side of the tent, out of her way as she tried to understand.

“This will end badly,” she informed her, like a whisper in her ear. Emma shivered. “Not that I’m complaining. Really, I’m looking forward to going home but you’ll be a nasty skewered princess. Wherever this ends up.”

Side-stepping out of her way, she followed Emma from the tent. The blonde gave a look to the soldiers, smiling as if nothing was wrong and headed to where the food was. Regina’s shoulders fell at the heading.  

“So you wake up suddenly in the middle of night, get dressed, arm yourself and decide on a midnight snack?” Regina asked. “You _must_ be their child. Shame, I had bets on infidelity with my Blackguard. Could you imagine holding that one over Snow White?” She laughed, amusing her self before noticing that Emma had bypassed the food and was currently heading in a very forward direction.

Taking flight, incase anyone close to death brushed past her, Regina watched as Emma made a very long and windy path out of camp and into the woods. Stepping down beside her, she folded her wings again. The trees were spread out enough that she could follow on foot.

Dried leaves crunched under Emma’s feet, loud against the distant lull of the camp. They crushed beneath Regina’s as well, but the sound didn’t travel from her plane to the princess. 

And as much as she looked forward to the Hall of Soldiers, Regina found herself enjoying the land again. The Hall of Heroes had gardens as well. Neatly clipped, large, green gardens for soldiers and Maidens to spend in their off time. The entire world was a mixture of paradise and training barracks. 

However, at times it was it was so very dull, alike being trapped in the castle as she had been when she was a young girl. Regina desired to stir up a rebellion against Morrígan just so she had something to do. That was usually when Reza or Amaryllis would arrive and sweep her off to a part of the world she’d never seen before. Sometimes taking her into battle against great foes to test her abilities.  

Emma walked steadily in front of her. Her feet long and slow, but quieter than Regina expected. Perhaps she would be of some use after all. 

Regina followed Emma until the sun rose. Her steps growing weary even as Emma remained strong, quiet strides through the woods. The woman’s hand never left her sword’s hilt, the palm of it holding it steady. 

Regina held back, keeping paces behind. This close to death couldn’t hear the parallel plane, but they could see it, be touched by it. Emma had to be in battle first, she had to fight before Regina could step forward and take her. The prime time was when she was struck. Moments after were often acceptable, but a Maiden had to be experienced.

For this, Regina had to be as close to Emma’s death as possible.

A part of her had hoped for her sister’s to be standing by her. Not that she’d ever admit out loud. The _sisterhood_ was only a recent development, something that took twenty years for her to feel something similar to _comfort_ over, but still a bitterness set over it. The desire to drop it and use them before they used her whispered in the back of her mind with her mother’s voice.

Emma halted suddenly and Regina jumped up, her feet landing on a tree branch as she watched below. The trees were thicker, higher up. Difficult to see through, but on the bough, she could see Emma no more than twelve feet away from her.

The woman peered around her helmet, looking for something. A rustle heard and a person dropped down from an opposing oak tree, only a few paces away from Emma. Regina settled, wings twisting, prepared to glide down. Her legs crouched, prepared. 

Emma had pulled her sword free, aiming it at the person. The boy, no older than sixteen, smiled at her. He had no weapon in his hand but the confidence made Emma’s weapon hold steady. 

Regina leaned forward, grinning. Ambush. A scout must have seen Emma leaving the encampment and called for backup.

“Who are you?” Emma demanded.

“No one.”

“What are your colors?”

“Black and blue and red all over,” he mocked. Emma’s teeth bared, she stepped forward, her sword raised to his throat.

“Tell me your allegiance or I’ll make that a promise. Now!”

The boy laughed. Regina watched enthralled as Emma took another step forward. She stopped at the sound of new movement from above. 

Eight men dropped from the trees, weapons raised as they surrounded her.

“You have got to be kidding me,” the princess staring, staring around them all. They move forward threateningly and she dropped the sword, arms raised in surrender. “I yield. Hey! I said I yield,” she yelled as one poked her with the end of their sword.

“Get her.”

Regina watched, waiting for them to do something as they forced Emma on her knees, tying her hands behind her back. Regina lent down, confused. Weren’t they supposed to-

 An arrow shot through her wing. Regina gasped. Her body slipping from the bough.

_I can’t move_.

She fell, face first on the ground. Her arm broke beneath her weight, but her wings…

Regina panicked, eyes wide. Feet scrambled, her body being tugged and pulled. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t _move._  

The world tilted as she stared at Emma. The girl was looking straight at her. In her eyes. Her pale skin ashen, eyes wide. She could see her. She was alive. She could _see_ her. Regina stared back. 

Someone grabbed her wing and twisted it where she’d been shot. Violent rush of pain punched her stomach and Regina cried out. Something went around her neck. Cold and metal. It connected to her wrists, to her feet and over her wings, binding them. She was caught, trapped and pinned down like an animal. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see they wore thick leather gloves, their whole bodies covered and careful not to touch her. 

They knew what she was.

Regina tried not to cry.

Staring at Emma, she wondered if the princess knew she was dying. That she was her Maiden. She wondered if she knew who she was.

Two hands grabbed her wing, she felt it, before they snapped the bone, her scream reverberating within both planes of existence.

 

* * *

 

Emma turned her head away, unable to cover her ears. The sound vibrated through her being. Soldiers, near to winged woman, stumbled back, falling to their knees. When the scream broke, the woman remained on the ground, her eyes closed, muscles relaxed. “What the hell was that!”

“That,” a man said, stepping beside Emma. “Was a Maiden’s scream.”

Emma looked up at the man, studying his armour before figuring out that this was her sorta-not really uncle. Prince Lucas or Luke or something. He had a bow on his back, but no arrows on him.

He grabbed Emma, picking her up onto her feet and throwing her to one of his soldiers. “Careful!” he said, stepping to the Maiden. “One touch and she could kill you.” Slowly, two soldiers hoisted the Maiden onto her feet. She swayed, unconscious in their arms and broken. Emma watched, horrified as one of the soldiers grabbed her broken wing and twisted it.

The woman’s eyes fell open and she cried out, awake and gasping. Her chains were yanked and the woman stumbled forward. Emma watched as a men bent to help her. 

“No!” the prince yelled. Regina caught the man around his throat, her hand tugging him closer. Emma didn’t know what happened, the woman seemed to…to kiss him? And some grey, wispy thing came out of his mouth, into hers like she was drinking a really weird potion. 

“Gross.”

The body fell and Emma watched Regina turn, smirking to the other soldier. She grabbed him before they could react, doing the same thing. Catching on to what was happening, Emma twisted in her soldier’s grip, grabbing her dagger and cutting through her binds as soldiers rushed forward to grab the woman again. 

Stepping her boot out, she tripped a soldier over and dug her dagger into the back of his throat, before grabbing another and slitting his. Blood warmed her hands as she made a move to another soldier when a sword pressed against her back. Emma stopped and looked to the Maiden. The woman, met her eyes, glaring as if it was _her_ fault. “I was trying to help,” she growled at her.

“Next time, keep your head down. You’ll cause less trouble,” the Maiden replied, sticking her chin up. 

“Bitch.” Emma glared before a boot hit her back, throwing her to the ground. Emma heaved, grasping for breath as the Maiden moved, chains jangling against each other as she was pushed forward. 

“Grab them both,” the prince said. “I’m sure you will help us in this war. Save us some bloodshed.”

Emma snarled, moving to lunge at him before a soldier clasped a hand over her shoulder and shoved her back to her knees. “How can you do that to her? It’s barbaric.”

Luke tilted his head to the woman, looking to the ugly twisted wing as his men moved the Maiden towards their wagon. “I know, but sometimes what we do is a necessary evil. Even if I don’t like it.”

“That’s bullshit! You’re a lying little piece of dragon shit.”

Luke smiled at her stiffly, before crouching down to eye level. “Did you see how she grabbed those men and killed them outright? She stole their their soul, Emma. Their being has been extinguished from all existence. Even if they were cruel men, didn’t they deserve judgement from the Creator of All?”

Emma frowned, looking to the woman as she bit down on lip, stiffing a cry. Her wings, in the morning light, sparkled red from where she was shot. Emma hadn’t know that Maidens held such power. She didn’t know how dangerous they were, truly. It didn’t seem right for a being to choose who lived and who died. The Maiden turned viscously, catching Emma’s eyes. She stared into her, blaming her. Emma looked away.

“Given half the chance, she’d do the same to us all.” He paused, looking to Emma. “Except to you of course. Though I suppose that may change now.”

“Me?”

“She’s _your_ Maiden, Emma. You were supposed to die today.” Luke chuckled, standing up. “In a way, you could say that we saved your life.”

Emma looked back to where the Maiden was. The cage was cramped and her wings didn’t quite fit. She gripped the bars painful as she folded the broken one back. Emma watched the overbearing pain until the woman nearly vomited. “Mine?” she said softly. It didn’t make sense. Her father was in camp. Her mother was at home, in the castle, delegating jobs and running the kingdom. She was supposed to inherit that kingdom. She was supposed to marry and have two crying babies and she wasn’t supposed to die until she was old in bed.

She felt someone grab her arms, binding her hands again. Emma struggled, kicking out, screaming as she stared at the Maiden. “No!” she said, “No! No, no no no!” Until the back of a hand hit her, stunning her.

“There we go,” Luke said, smiling down at her. “Just breathe, Emma. It’s okay. You’re alive and your Maiden can’t take you.” Emma nodded, gulping in breath. She blinked, feeling her wet eyelashes. Damn. This week was too much for her to handle.

“Take her weapons,” Luke ordered. She was stripped of her weapons, even her helmet and guards were removed. Glaring up at him, Emma bit her tongue. He was in power. She needed to be careful.

“What are you going to do with her?” She demanded. So much for that thought.

“Take her back to camp. Someone wants her. And, if she’s not good,” he looked over to where the Maiden was sitting in her cage, hands around the bars as she glared at them. “We’ll break her other wing.”

“Fuck you,” the Maiden spat. “I’ll destroy you and your pathetic army. Don’t think I’ll let any of my Sisters take you to the Hall after what you’ve done. You’ve damned yourselves to darkness.”

“I’ve faced darkness before,” Luke said calmly.

“Not this. Not endless darkness. The inability to speak, to even have a thought.” The woman’s head tilted, her eyes, glowing like hot coals, “Have you even not being able to know a word, little prince? The frustration and torment of needing to know it, feeling in your very being that you do, that it’s right there. Now imagine that for every word, every thought, everything. There’s nothing but darkness in damnation. No light or sound for all eternity. Just the awareness that there was more, that you are more than a feeling caught. That is where I will send you to.”

Emma shivered, looking into the woman’s dark eyes. “Is that where you sent those two men?” she asked. “The ones you killed?”

The Maiden turned to her then, a cruel smiling peeling her lips back to bare white teeth. “Do you really want to know, Princess? Does it pain you to know what I’ve done to them?”

“Yes.”

“It shouldn’t.” The lips turned into a sneer, her head tossing away. “Sadistic idiots. They deserved their fate.”

“They had a family!”

“I didn’t know you cared. You certainly killed your men fast enough.”

“I didn’t damn them to nothing.”

The look she gave Emma, made the princess want to throttle her. It was such a condescending, bitchy face. “You think you didn’t damn them? You killed them, you stole their life when you were supposed to die. They could have been taken by Maidens, now they were will wander the Lost Kingdom, crying out for their loved ones for all eternity.” The Maiden laughed, the sound loud and horrible as she stared at the bodies. “Come, little prince. Take us before the Others arrive.”

“The Others?”

The Maiden looked to Emma. “The Others. They ride pale horses with rotting flesh and take those in battle who are not worthy to serve in the Hall of Soldiers.”

“I know what the Others are!” she snapped. Luke looked between them, amused. “What’s so bad about them? They’ll take the souls.”

“And yours,” she replied. “You were on borrowed time. That time has ended. I can smell death on you.” Her eyes flashed black and for a horrible moment, Emma thought she’d break the cage and devourer her. But the cage held and pain flushed over the Maiden’s face, her body crumbling helplessly onto her knees.

“Take the princess and put her on the wagon. Bind her to the cage.”

A soldier grabbed her, making sure her hands were tied as she was dragged through the trees to the short distance of the wagon. “How come I didn’t see it earlier?” she asked. “You and the wagon.” 

“Magic.”

“You have a wizard amongst you?”

The soldier looked at her, raising his eyebrows. “Of sorts. But he’s not here now. He’ll be back at camp. You’ve got a long trip a head of you.”

Emma sighed, sitting still as she was bound to the Maiden’s cage, made to sit outside of it in the small gap of the wagon. Looking at her, Emma knew the best way out would be with her help. “I’m Emma of-“

“I know,” the Maiden interjected. “I’m your Maiden, dear. I’ve being shadowing you for a week,” her feathers rustled and a wince pinched her expression before she stilled. “You know me as well, I suspect.”

Emma’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t believe so.”

The Maiden chuckled, shaking her head. “I doubt your parents haven’t spoke of me. I was a vital part of their history.”

“Maidens are a vital part of all our history.” The woman hummed, nodding her head rather rudely, Emma thought. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” she asked, “What’s _my_ problem. What do you think is my problem?” 

“Well don’t take it out on me! It’s not my fault you got caught.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No! I didn’t even know that…that I was…”

“Dying, dear?”

“Can you call it that?” Emma asked. “‘Dying’. I mean, don’t _you_ take the souls when they’ve been slain in battle?”

“We can take before, as well. A person’s life comes to end at a particular time. We are the chosen to take what we’ve seen. We can take before their death, during or after, as long as they are on a battlefield, they are ours.”

Emma glared. “That’s not fair.”

“Oh? Well they didn’t tell us that. So I guess all you little humans are ours for the taking, if we so value you.”

“What about my family?” Emma asked. “What about my friends?”

“After a hundred years, you’d forget them. Believe me. Though I wouldn’t put it past Her to take your father as well. It’d be just my luck, too.” She glared, staring out at the woods. “A whole other plane and I’ll still be forced to spend an eternity with you.” Emma’s hand clenched at the resentment directed towards her. “I must have made a hundred enemies, but of them all, _you_ are, by far-“

 “What the hell did I do to you to make you so upset? As far as I’m concerned, we just met!”

“Oh? Where do I begin?” the woman’s head whipped to face her, her body moving close to press against the bars. She couldn’t quite reach Emma with her hands chained to feet the way they were, but she tried anyway. Emma pulled back, as safely as she could on the wagon. “You,” she pointed, “your whole _family_ seems to take _everything_ from me. My home, my family, my _life_ ,” she spat. “And I finally get my place, a chance to take what I _deserve_ and somehow! Somehow you manage to screw it up and I’m back in a cage!” The woman’s cheeks were a vibrant red as she made another snatch for Emma. “You _ruin_ me and no matter what I’ve done on either earth or above, I do _not_ deserve an eternity of you and those two _idiots_.”

Emma flinched. “What idiots?

“Your parents,” she hissed. “Snow White and her _darling_ Prince Charming.”

Emma stared, eyes wide at the hatred pouring from the woman. Never before had she seen such unadulterated loathing, not even from King George. “My father’s a King.”

“Oh? And how did he manage that with George in the way? I don’t see him rescinding his throne any time soon. Unless he calls himself King while the war still rages. If so, that makes him a _false_ King.” And your mother a false queen. She didn’t say it, but Emma could read that smile. She wanted nothing more than to hit it from the woman’s face. But she bit back the anger, swallowing like a hard ball that sat in her throat.

“My mother inherited the Winter Kingdom, her father’s king-“

“She did not!” Regina clung to the bars, eyes wide and animalistic. “Don’t you dare lie to me! She didn’t, that throne doesn’t belong to her. She gave it up and took over King George’s castle with the shepherd.”

“It was still hers by inheritance.”

“It was _not_. She held no ownership over the throne, the line diverged from her. The war ended and she went _back_ to her kingdom when the people refused. King George took it, not that _bitch_.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my mother that way!”

“I will talk about her however I damn like! She is nothing but a lying, pathetic, _princess_ who will _never_ be queen. And if I have to tear down this world to ensure it. I will.”

Emma lunged at the cage, crying out but a soldier grabbed her around the waist, tugging her back. Only then did she notice that they hadn’t moved. No one had moved, they were preparing to leave and one of the soldiers noticed the commotion. Emma struggled in his grip, feeling the armour dig through her own. Her eyes narrowed in on the woman’s face, the ferocity and the snarling mouth. She wanted to wrap her fingers around the neck and-

She saw the sword hilt too late, hitting her across the temples. Thunder boomed behind her eyes before the darkness took over. Emma fell slack in the soldier’s arms, a sound dying in throat as she was hoisted and thrown into the wagon again.

The Maiden stared before turning away. Uninterested in a body.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

George watched as the wagon arrived. He noticed the cage first, the dark feathers inside and a lone figure with cropped, dark hair. The blonde woman was second. Outside of the cage, on the back of the wagon, she laid unconscious. An interest perhaps later, but not of current.

“They took out four of us,” Luke said before he could ask. “The Maiden took out two before we caged her. The princess took out the others with her dagger.” His son sighed at him, knowing where his thoughts laid, “I’m sorry, I should have paid more attention to her.”

“The princess?” George’s eyes swept to the blonde, moving to look closer. Reaching forward, he brushed the blonde from her face and saw the familial similarities.The face, the leather armour. “Emma,” he whispered, dropping his hand away. “What was she doing there?”

“Must have been her Maiden. We were going to let past, but we saw the Maiden following her. He was right, by the way. The arrow worked. She’s pinned to this plane, but I don’t know for how long.”

“Until her wings heal,” George answered. “In myth, they’re said to be what takes them to different lands. I assume that’s what he’s after.” He gestured for a soldier to come over. “Wake her up and take her to where the Maiden will be held. The cage beside her. I don’t want her soul reaped, do you understand?” He nodded. Only then did George look up to the black feathers and watch the head rise and turn to face him.

“King George,” came the drawling voice. “How you’ve aged.”

George stared, wide-eyed at his predecessor sitting before him, bloodied and winged. “Regina?” he couldn’t help at the disbelief. 

“Well, you haven’t lost your memory yet. Unfortunate, I rather hoped to avoid being remembered.”

“You’re…” 

“Alive? Yes,” she agreed. “Well, not quite. Charming’s dear little sword did pierce through my chest. I admit I didn’t foresee that, though I’m sure _He_ did,” she said, eyes darting around. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“Charming?”

Regina gave a patronising look to King George, “Not the idiot. The twisted little imp who brought me. No one else has that kind of magic, do they?” It was offered as a question and George wondered if Regina was aware about how much had changed. “Ru-“

“ _Don’t_ say his name,” she hissed. “It’s a calling card.” Adjusting herself in the cage, she wrapped her fingers around the bars as though the roles were switched and he was caged with her standing before him. “What deal did you make for me?”

“ _You_?” George said, chuckling. “I had no idea it would be you.”

“Well _He_ certainly did.”

Coughing, he straightened his back. She was right. It was irritating to know that Rumplestiltskin had pulled one over him. Again. “I’ll win this war and own both kingdoms.”

Regina arched an eyebrow, sitting back. “Is that all?”

“What?”

“Oh. Nothing, dear.” She smiled. “I just mean, it’s like swapping a diamond for a gold coin, isn’t it?” 

“Don’t play games with me, Regina.”

“And why would I do that? You’re so good at playing them with yourself.” She smirked, watching his face screw up as it steadily grew pink. “Don’t tell me you’re that much of a fool. Put it this way, George: our dear friend needed a Maiden and there’s no doubt he knew it would be me. But why would he get _you_ to do it?”

He let out a breath, unable to meet her eyes. “Because I wanted something.”

“Ah, so you do have a brain under all that ego. Good. You wanted something he could easily give and make appear as a fair trade. He never does anything he doesn’t want. So tell me, George. Why would he want you to win the war?”

He glared. He didn’t want to play this game, but if he tortured her, Regina was likely to only give half of the necessary information. “To get rid of Snow White,” he tried. Regina’s eyebrows quirked. _Wrong answer._ “To rule the kingdom.”

“Is that what you think he wants? He could have done that years ago.”

“David then.”

“The shepherd? Please. He’s hardly of interest now their _darling_ princess is born and all grow up.” She chucked a distasteful look to Emma. George wondered then if Regina viewed Emma as the reason for her current downfall. Really, she should be looking at Rumplestiltskin, but she’d always thrown a partial blind spot to him. Hadn’t she? Even now she could read him like a book, but be oblivious to his true intentions. 

No, he realised suddenly. She wasn’t oblivious, just numb to it. Eye narrowing, George wondered if she really was aware of his plans for her, and if so… he had to have a greater plan in mind. 

Regina was studying the area around her, looking for weak spots. It occurred to George that all of this was a ploy to delay the inevitable.

“How do you know what he wants?”

“Please. He is _not_ difficult to figure out.” She chuckled again, watching him struggled with his pride. “Think about it, he’s being compliant for the most part, has he not?” He didn’t nod, but the lack of movement was enough of an answer. “No doubt, he came to you in need, not the other way around.” Again, he agreed. Dammit. 

Swallowing bitterly, he forced him self to do what Regina wanted. Damn her. “Tell me what he wants.” George looked to Regina, desiring to throttle her when her lips curled proudly. The woman even had the audacity to laugh. “Don’t play games, you and I both know that you are in no place to barter.” 

“Oh?” 

He smirked, looking to a soldier who stepped forward with a particularly sharp jagged weapon that he’d enjoy sticking under her ribs. Regina’s eyes flickered to it. “But it’s _so_ obvious,” she mocked, schooling her features well, but not fast enough to hide the fear. Her wings were her tell, they ruffled, twitching nervously. 

“Then tell me.” He waited, receiving only quiet before he made a decision. Turning to the soldier, watching Regina out of the corner of her eye, he smiled, “get the branding tool.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” She grimaced uncomfortably, feathers shivering. “He wants _me_ , you idiot and not just me, he wants my ability to jump through planes. The little imp has been looking for something for years. Something or someone. I don’t know what.”

“How do you know his plans?”

“Thirty years ago, he gave me a curse, said I could use it against Snow White to get my happily ever after. Unfortunately, you needed the heart of the thing you loved most,” she glared, snapping away. The emotions of that were still raw, still dinging into her crudely.

“Ah yes, your father died, didn’t he? When Snow White raided your castle.”

“Casualty of war.” She breathed it, releasing her anger. “I almost had her then. She was so close I could have broken her little neck-“ Regina stopped, pulling away as she remembered where she was. “If you give me to him, he’s going to give you what you want because this whole land is irrelevant.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he will bring the End of All Magic. Not now, not in a few years, but soon.” She smiled, tilting her head as something gold caught her eyes. “When did you marry?” George snatched his hand away, glaring.

“After you. The people didn’t trust a single ruler. I married to appease them.”

“Oh? And your wife?”

“You might know her, actually. I found her in your tower all locked up on the brink of death.”

Regina’s smile faded. A coldness gripped at George’s heart. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned her. “Why is he working for you if you have Belle?” 

“What?”

Regina’s brows rose high. “Don’t tell me after all this time you don’t know of their history?” George’s frown creased further, sure that Regina was playing him. But instead, her shoulders began to shake before she laughed, loud and heartedly. Uncomfortably, George stood back, eyeing the wings and wondering if he could snap them in two. “You’re being played, George. Played so well you don’t even notice.” She laughed again, chuckling on her humour as she shook her head. 

“What do you know?”

“Oh no, I’m saving that. Go ask your _dear_ wife if you really want to know, but I’m betting she’s far away looking after your castle.” She laughed again, leaning forward against the bars. Her fingers wrapped around the metal, lips peeling back to her teeth. “I’ll tell you what, let me out of here and I’ll help you with this…little problem while my wing heals.”

“I don’t think so.” George smiled then, looking down at her. Regina’s expression froze on her face, eyes dulling as she studied him. “I think you will help me, and you’ll do it chained up in your cage if and when I feel like it.” 

Regina’s expression shifted to absolute murderous. “I would suggest that you start thinking _very_ carefully. He’s going to come looking for me, if he doesn’t already know I’m here. And unless you have a way of hiding me in this encampment, you’re _screwed_ , King George.”

“Let him come. I’m betting he needs you alive.”

The black feathers rose, standing on ends as Regina glared at him. “Let me out of here, George,” she warned him. 

“Or what? You’ll ruffle your wings at me?” He chuckled at her, shaking his head. “Face it Regina. I finally have one over you and there’s nothing you can do.”

“I’ll kill you for this.”

“Go on then.” He lent forward, just out of grasp. Regina hands pushed through bars, her chains rattling. He could see the pain, her broken wing twitch before she gave in, huffing frustrated. Her eyes blinked rapidly, ashamed at her own inability before she looked away. “You can’t do a thing.”

“I have time,” Regina said. “All eternity for my revenge. How long do you have?”

“You couldn’t even get your revenge on Snow White. So why should _I_ be afraid of _you_?”

“Because you need me. Sooner or later, you’ll beg for my help and when you do, I’ll destroy you.”

George paused, looking at her curiously before he walked away. The soldiers came, and after a short nod, carried Regina to the cell. A cage, larger than the one she’d previously been in, staked to the ground. She could sit and crouch, the design being made large enough to fit twelve or so people. But the wings were an issue. He hadn’t expected them to be so large. 

“What about…you know,” Luke shrugged, staring at his father pointedly. He’d only been a few feet away and had caught most of the conversation. “She’s right. He will come looking for her soon.”

“Send for Maleficent. Tell the messenger to relay these exact words: The Queen’s returned to the Winter Castle. Those _exact_ words.”

“What do you expect to happen?”

“She’ll arrive soon after. Her, Regina and…him, were _the_ trifecta of dark magic.” He paused, tasting the words in his mouth. Maleficent kept to herself more or less. She sometimes prowled her area, pushing limits in both human and dragon form, but for the most part, she remained in the Dark Fortress, practising dark magic, or sitting on her gold or whatever it was. 

Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, seemed to be everywhere. If there was a sudden shift in hierarchal power or status, somewhere, somehow he was involved. 

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“What will happen if she doesn’t arrive.”

George sighed, looking around the battle camp. “Regina’s right. We’ll ask for her help. I’m not proud of what I’m going to do to her, Luke, and I don’t want you to be there when I do what’s necessary.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Take her wings.”

Luke stared at him, confused. “But…she’s needs those. Without them she’s grounded here. She’ll go insane.”

“I know.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Then she better speak.” At that, he left. His son was going to hate him. He should have left him with his mother. She was right, he was too young for war.

 

* * *

 

Emma spluttered, gasping at the ice water. “Wake up.” Glaring, she shook the damp hair from her face and glared up at the soldier. A headache throbbed from where she’d been hit, her muscles still sore from the days old battle. Hell, this just wasn’t fair. 

“What do you want?” she growled.

“Dinner time,” the soldier grinned, pointing to the meal before her. Emma sighed, looking at the slop. It wasn’t stewed meat. It looked like bread that had been left to soak in the water and little else. “You have to eat it.”

“Why?”

“Orders.”

“They’re not _my_ orders.”

“We don’t follow _your_ orders.”

Emma sighed, that hadn’t been what she meant, but fat chance she was going to repeat that. Sighing, she sat back against the bar and looked from the food to soldier’s face. “Get going,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m a shy eater.”

“Well I hope you don’t piss shyly.” Ugh. Lovely. She turned to where his eyes were and found the chamberpot. Well, it was something. Shrugging she turned to look at him, offering a sweet smile. The boy grumbled something and left.

“Well done, you’ve scared off a boy half your age.”

“Screw you,” Emma said, looking through the cage to see the Maiden. She was lying on the ground, her wings covering up her body for the most part. _Lucky_ , came an envious voice, _those feathers look warm_. 

The woman chuckled, stretching not unlike a cat before she settled under her wings again. Emma stared, unabashed. Frustrating as she was, the wings were quite magnificent. The woman caught her eye, smiling knowingly as she tossed hair from her eyes. “Yes, dear?”

“Nothing.”

“If you say so.” She smiled, crossing her arms and setting her chin down as she went back to sleep.

“Look,” Emma said after a pause, turning her head away. Regina’s eyes peeked open. “We can’t keep at each other’s throat.”

“We can’t?”

“Shut up. We need to find a way out of this.”

“Oh _please_. Your father’s been sent for, no doubt. Within a day, an exchange will be made. The fool will probably surrender for your safety if Snow doesn’t get wind of it first and you’ll be happy off dying on some battlefield within the following hours.”

Emma blinked. “How do you know my parents?” She shook her head then, remembering their previous argument, “actually, _why_ do you hate my parents so much? What did they ever do to you?”

“Everything,” she growled, turning away. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Should I?”

“No, I assume my portrait isn’t paraded around the castle. Maybe a few crude drawings from the dwarves,” she chuckled then, sitting up. Her wings stretched as much as they could within the confinements of the cage. Emma watched as the broken one fell suddenly as the Maiden hissed, regretting the move. 

“Do you need to splint that.”

“No point.”

“Why?”

The woman blinked, fear on her features before she turned away, hiding behind the short, dark hair. “They’re going to remove it,” she replied. Rolling her shoulders, she shivered and smiled bitterly at Emma. “The only consideration I’ll give your parents is that they’re not so cruel to prolong physical torture. Everything else…well.”

“They’re not going to really do that,” Emma said. “They wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know King George as well as I,” she sighed. She looked like she was about to say something else, but instead bit back. 

“But he can’t do that,” Emma said. “You’ll die, won’t you? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of getting you?”

“Yes, well, I may have made a slight misjudgement.” The Maiden shrugged, regretting the move instantly. “Doesn’t matter, does it? I’m sure Snow would agree that I deserve it, even if she doesn’t have the capability to do it herself.”

“My mother would _never-_ “

“Even for the Evil Queen?”

Emma paused, swallowing as she looked at the woman. For just a second, the woman looked younger than Emma. Fragile. Then she looked forward again, her lips thin in a straight line and Emma understood what she meant.

“Regina.”

The laugh came, loud and bitter. A few soldiers standing by offered a strange look. But the woman didn’t care for it. “Finally,” she murmured. “Yes, dear.”

“You’re-“

“A Maiden, not dead, alive?” she offered.

“Real,” Emma finished. 

The woman blinked, smiling at the word. _Real_. 

She was just a myth in the White Kingdom. People still shivered at the name, afraid the feared queen would rise again and strip them of their land if someone even _spoke_ it out loud. Emma wondered if Regina really did hold that presence or if her history had just become an embellished legend.

She didn’t look evil, just proud and annoying. She certainly didn’t look like a queen, but then, Emma had never thought ‘queen’ would be synonymous with ‘wings’. 

“Is…is that why they brought here?” she asked. “Because you’re the queen?”

“No. Something much more sinister.” She smiled, tipping her head to look at Emma. “Tell me, what do you know of a man who can give you what you want, for a price?”

“You mean-“

“Don’t say his name.” 

Emma swallowed, nodding. “I know about him.”

“Good. Then you know enough to realise that when I say, _I’d rather George removes my wings then go back to him,_ that I mean it. I’d rather die screaming by George’s hands than his.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Regina glared at her. “A man that old has picked up a few tricks. He’ll keep me alive longer than George.”

“But…I don’t understand. Aren’t you…”

“Dead? In a way that you understand, yes, but in truth, not quite.” She sighed, looking away. “I don’t know what happens when I die again. Maybe I’ll cease to exist. It’d be a preferable to this.” The wings shook and covered her features, curling around her form entirely. 

Emma bowed her head, looking away. Even without the wings, she’d known the conversation was over. What do you say to that? _I’m sorry_ _your life turned to shit because you’re my Maiden?_  

But still, Emma thought over the revelation. Regina was alive. If her mother knew, she’d be rallying the aligned kingdoms against King George. Now, they all sat, content in dealing with their own issue. They’d help in the ways they could, but George made promises. Promises he _could_ live up to that neither her parents nor strong allies could compete with.

They’d gained some kingdoms that once allied with Regina. That was to be expected, but places depending on trade from King George faltered. Places that could gain wealth if George was in seat definitely switched sides. Already, Queen Abigail had swayed her vote to George, offering two hundred of her soldiers after George broughtnecessary medicine to save her children. 

The letter to Emma’s father had been courteous, and short. _While I thank you for Fredrick, my debt has been long since paid. I wish you well and I hope trade may continue with our lands_.

Emma had sworn viscously at the letter. Even though Emma knew she was right and fair in giving men to George, it still hurt. 

Queen Belle, too, had sway over people. She could seduce legions of men with her gentle charm. The people loved her intelligence and sweetness as much as they loved George’s strength and ambition to do what’s necessary. They were that extra step more that neither of her own parents could meet. 

Looking to Regina now, if word got out that the Queen was alive and not dead as her father had said, the remainder of the delicately held allies would switch, believing David had lied to them. They would lose this war.

“Is that why you came back?”

Regina turned to face her, looking insulted. Or confused. Emma blinked at her. “ _What_ on earth are you talking about?”

Embarrassed, she realised that Regina had not heard her internal monologue. Great. “Did you return to sway the war in George’s favour?”

“Yes,” she said in all seriousness. “I returned, to be captured and undergo serious torture just so Snow would lose her pretty white castle. _No_ you insipid idiot, I came for _you_.”

Emma flinched, lips pulling into a snarl. “You don’t have to be rude, you know. It was just a question.”

“A rather rude question.”

Emma’s mouth opened to argue, before closing again. She was right. “Well,” came the petulant reply. Emma cringed at her own voice, but she couldn’t stop the words pouring out, “You were quite rude before, too. And I hadn’t even done anything!”

“Poor little princess hurt by mean words, was it? Tough. Rudeness seems the only way you’ll listen to me.” Sniffing, she looked away. “I could care less about Snow.”

“That’s a load of horse shit.”

Regina chuckled. “I supposed it is. But my revenge would have been taking you. I admit, seeing the face of Snow White after I stole her daughter, would have been the sweetest revenge,” she smiled at Emma, a soft look on her face. It hardened then, her body turning to look at Emma carefully. “I always promised her I would come back for you.”

“You died before I was born.”

“No, dear. I didn’t. You were two years old when I died.” She blinked, her brow furrowing confused. But Emma didn’t try to decipher the expression. She was too busy trying remember what her mother had said in the stories she told. None of them mentioned Regina after her birth. She even said that she was on the final battlefield. 

“I even held you as a baby,” Regina said in an after thought. Emma looked to her, realising then that the previous expression had been realisation. It’d been twenty years since she’d returned. “You were asleep, of course.”

“My mother would have _never_ let you hold me.”

“Oh, she didn’t. I wanted to break her, you see. I came into her castle under the guise of a serving maid. It was an easy plan, come in, find your _darling_ little nursery and break your neck.”

Emma looked at her, sitting up to face Regina properly. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like a good plan, what happened? Why didn’t you do it?”

Regina faltered, bristling before she looked away. “I was caught,” she said stiffly. “Now leave me alone before I make true of that promise and break your tiny little neck.”

“You can’t do that,” Emma said. “You need me.”

“I don’t.”

“Yes you do. You’re my Maiden.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, princess. You are _mine_ I am not _yours_ ,” she sneered at the idea. Shaking the words off her. “You are a tool, nothing more. When I take you to Hall of Soldiers, you’ll become a trade.”

“A trade?”

“Yes. A trade, a tool, a _thing_ to get what I want.”

Emma felt sick at the words. That was nothing like the stories spoke of. The Hall of Soldiers was a grande place above the clouds, filled with wine and drink and dance. Soldiers trained for battle, fighting against great foes with no fear of death. They weren’t _trading_ objects. “What will you trade me for?” she asked.

“A dozen practitioners,” Regina smiled. “I can start my army.”

“You’re army?”

“Yes, dear. My _army_.”

Emma swallowed, looking at her. “To take back your land?”

Regina laughed again, this time loud and happy, “Gods, no. I have no use for this land.“

“Oh.” She breathed. Of course not, what was an old land of politics to whatever the Hall of Heroes held. “Then what for?”

“Do you have to have so many questions?”

“Do _you_ have to be so rude about everything?”

“When it comes to you, yes.”

Emma growled, moving away. “You’re a vain, bitch, you know that?” Regina didn’t reply, just smiled as she began fixing her wings, pulling out feathers near her wound. Emma tried not to watch, but it was difficult to not hear her swear under her breath. 

With difficultly, Emma looked out of the cage, sighing. She needed an exit plan and wasn’t going to find a way out easily. Not without help and so far, Regina was all she had.

Snow may have held resentment towards the woman, but Emma had grown up with legends and old stories. Regina didn’t seem nearly as bloodthirsty as the Evil Queen. But, Regina had taken those soldiers without thought. Stolen their souls to be devoured inside of her. She didn’t look guilty, even now she was more focused on her wings than mellowing in guilt. 

Emma wondered if Regina spoke the truth. If she really swallowed the souls to damnation. It seemed strange to think about. Was there a pit resting inside the Maidens to hold the souls? Or were their stomachs like a weird portal to another place known as damnation, or darkness, or whatever it was?

Emma looked over at Regina, watching her swear, cringing as she ripped free another feather, bursting blood from it.

Those wings, she wondered. If they could just break free of the cage, Regina could lift them out and carry them over back to their camp. Couldn’t she?

No, she couldn’t ask her another question. 

“Do you need help?” _Dammit_.

“What?” Regina turned to face her.

“Maybe, I…could help. If you steady then I could pull it free. It looks awkward,” she offered, smiling. The smile wasn’t returned.

“You’d die.”

“Why?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Idiot.” 

“Fine, I won’t offer help again,” she muttered. She needed to stop talking to her.

 

* * *

 

The paper’s dropped from her fingertips. Kneeling down, Belle piled them back in her hands before she noticed another set of hands helping her. Distinctively scaled hands. 

“Rumple!” 

He rose, grinning and finished placing the papers in her grip before he set back. “Hello, dearie.”

Belle flushed. It’d been a while. “What are you doing here?” she paused at her words, inwardly cringing at the horrible accusation in her tone. Clearing her throat, she offered him a smile, “Can I make you some tea?”

“Still not using your servants, I see?”

She flushed, placing the dignitary’s papers down onto the table before turning back to face Rumplestiltskin. “Well, no,” she replied. “They’re busy enough as it is. It would be unfair to have them make tea as well when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked at her oddly before smiling. “I won’t be here long so no need to make tea.” 

Belle nodded and lead him over to the chairs, gesturing briefly for him to sit in her husband’s armchair, before she sat across from him in her own chair. Silence fell over them and awkwardly, she fiddled with her dress.

“I saw your son,” Rumplestiltskin offered. “He’s grown.”

Belle smiled, thinking of Luke. “He has, hasn’t he? I didn’t want him there, but George insisted.” She looked down, blinking. “You’re keeping him safe, then?”

“I am.”

“Good. I… I know it was a lot to ask of you. But I didn’t know who else to make such a request to. My children are all I have.” That and the extensive library left over from Regina’s time, but that hardly counted. Books were a comfort, an escape or a means to an end, but her children were all that mattered.

“You didn’t think to ask your husband?” Rumplestiltskin offered, bitterness lacing his throat. Belle turned away, perhaps she deserved that. 

“George is blinded by his own ambitions, he sees Luke as everything he wanted in a son. He doesn’t even acknowledge his daughter.”

“Should he?”

Belle flushed, turning away. “Yes.” She decided. “He should. Emmanuelle is _his_ daughter.” They stared at each other then, before Belle’s eyes dropped away. He hated her, she knew that. And not without reason. “You never said why you were here.”

“I came for something,” he said. “An insurance.”

“Of what?”

“Your darling little husband is up to no good. By now, he should have had what I asked him for, but instead of handing it over, he’s holding it hostage. Very naughty.”

Belle felt nervous. Her husband was six days travel from her. There was nothing she could do here, to ensure that George gave over what was due. “What can I give you?”

“You?” he asked, “nothing dearie. He’s not your responsibility all the way over there.” Belle felt ill at the words. George _was_ her responsibility, that had bee the deal. “However, if you could get him a _reminder_ of our little deal, I’d be ever so grateful,” he smiled then, laughing. 

Rumple had changed since George had found her. Over the years of marriage he became worse, terrifying Belle until Belle remembered the man she once loved as someone else entirely and not as the man standing before her. Rumplestiltskin now was, evidently, the Dark One in more ways than one. 

“Of course,” she told him. “As you wish.”

“Good, good, then – oh.” He paused, watching a young woman emerge from the hall. Dark hair spilled in curls down her back, blue eyes sparkling. She was the very picture of her mother’s daughter, and, as Belle could see, similar to her own mother in features. 

“Good evening,” the girl curtseyed, smiling at Rumplestiltskin as if he were no more than any of the other men who came through the castle’s walls. “I hope your travels were well.” Belle looked to her then, uncomfortable with the way she smiled so familiarly to him. Though they’d met twice before, Emmanuelle should not have spoken so freely with him. 

“They were,” he smiled, softly. Belle rose then, coughing nervously. 

“Was that all, Rumple?” 

“Yes, yes. No. Actually, you have a book of mine,” he turned looking over the bookcase before turning behind him. A large, floor to ceiling bookcase stood and with a crook of his finger, a dark, emerald book came and floated into his hand. His titled obscured beneath Rumplestiltskin’s arm before she could ask. “There, now that’s all.” He bowed then, once towards her daughter, before disappearing.

Emmanuelle smiled brightly, turning to her mother. “He’s ever so charming!” she told her. Belle frowned, wondering the truth behind her daughters words before she moved over to where her teapot sat. 

“Was there something you wanted?” she asked her. “I thought you were off in your lessons?”

“Don’t be so cold, mother. I was tired. Don’t I deserve a break?”

Belle looked to her, then sighed. “Of course,” she said, smiling to her daughter. “Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“Nobody wants tea,” she whispered to herself, adding two cubes of sugar to her own cup. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Yes!” Emmanuelle said, “I was speaking with Marie and Rose and-“

“Your ladies?”

“My _friends_ ,” Emmanuelle correct. “And I think it’s finally time, during this war, that we have a party.”

“A party?” Belle said, raising her eyebrows. “Why would we want a party? The war is still on.” And she had a messenger to send immediately after writing a short letter, warning her husband as delicately as she could on the consequences of crossing Rumple.

“Not a celebratory party, but an alliance! There must be other wives locked in other kingdoms! An alliance could be had.”

“Emmy-“

“Mother!” Her daughter broke in, laughing. “I haven’t finished yet.”

Belle stood back, allowing her daughter to speak with a gesture.

“I am the older sibling. I _should_ have been married off. And I _know_ that you wanted me to make the decision for myself, but with everything that’s been happening, the wars…well, maybe it’s time we hold a ball so I can meet suitors. Maybe from another kingdom that could give us a strong alliance?” she asked, smiling so sweetly, Belle knew there was another reason.

“Is that all?” she asked, giving her daughter a chance to speak.

“Yes,” Emmanuelle nodded, her smile going from ear to ear. “Please Mother?”

“I’ll speak with some of the advisors.”

Her daughter squealed, several more coming from the hall to whom only could belong to Emmanuelle’s ladies in waiting. Of course. Perhaps this was a big ploy to meet boys. Her daughter, after all, was becoming an ‘old maid’ by the kingdom’s standards. Not that she cared for it either way, but perhaps it was time her daughter to meet someone. An allegiance to a wealthy kingdom could ensure a stronger hold in the war.

It was practical.

Still, Rumple laid on her mind, and her daughter’s ease around him.

“Thank you, mother!” she said, rushing off to where her friends were in the hall. Belle watched her daughter leave, an ache in her heart. She’d given birth to Emmanuelle at the same time as Lucas. George hadn’t cared for a daughter, barely paid more than enough attention to stop Belle from screaming ‘they are _both_ your children, and you will treat her more than an unwanted addition!’.

However, Belle couldn’t blame him entirely. He saw Lucas as his son to raise, and Emmanuelle as her daughter. Two people to mould into their own. 

Belle pulled the tea to her lips and then placed it down. Cold, of course. She turned away, cobalt blue skirts following her as she left the room in the parallel door her daughter had left from, continuing down the servant’s way to the kitchen with her teapot to make a new tea. 

“Milday?” a servant asked, always, always asking if they could do it for her. 

“No thank you,” she smiled politely. “Though if you could fine Julian, I’d be grateful. I need to send a letter to my husband”

 


End file.
